Booze and Backpacks

Well, here we are again… the end of summer vacation. How I hate this time of year. Not because of the change in the weather – the nip in the morning air is rather refreshing, as my days of watering my flowers grow numbered. Not because it’s friggin’ dark when you get up at 3AM with your husband and then again at 6AM with your kids – I get used to the routine in a few days. Not because I have to make those infernal lunches again that I am ALWAYS complaining about – in truth, I take a certain pride in making sure that my family has healthy food to get through their busy days. I HATE this time of year because the girls go back to school. And I miss them. Go ahead. Assume that I’m one of “THOSE” mothers. The kind that think their kids walk on water (mine don’t – sometimes I’m tempted to hold their heads under, just to make sure they’re listening). The kind whose own lives cease to matter without being involved in the minutia of their children’s schedules (my own work agenda is frightful enough for me, thanks!). Believe me, I well and truly cut the umbilical cord when each daughter screeched her way into the world. I respect them as individuals, with their own responsibilities, as I tend to mine. Fact of the matter is, I actually LIKE my kids. Summer is a nice time for us to reconnect, without the hassles of homework, the mountains of laundry that HAVE to be done or the world as they know it will cease to exist (because we all know the horrendous fashion faux pas that results from being forced to wear the “orange” t-shirt versus the “dark peach”), the forms to be submitted on time, the fees to be paid on time, the library books to be returned on time… UGHHHH… just STOP! THAT is what summer is – it’s the “stop sign” of daily life. For a wonderful eight to ten weeks out of the year, we respect it. The rest of the time we blow past it like a bat outta hell and pray there’s a life cop somewhere in our midst that will pull us over and sentence us to time behind a bar - preferably one with excellent margaritas! So, as we sadly put our foot on the gas and accelerate our way into another year in academia, I thought to myself, “What can I do to make things more fun?” … then I answered, “SING ELAINE! SING!” Since I always try to listen to me, here’s my little ditty. Meet me at the bar when YOU get pulled over and we’ll do this one karaoke-style over those margaritas. On the first day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … the budget of a small-ish country On the second day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … two new backpacks, and the budget of a small-ish country On the third day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the fourth day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the fifth day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the sixth day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … six boys for gawkin’ at, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the seventh day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … seven pairs of undies, six boys for gawkin’ at, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the eighth day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … eight kinds of gel pens, seven pairs of undies, six boys for gawkin’ at, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the ninth day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … nine new erasers, eight kinds of gel pens, seven pairs of undies, six boys for gawkin’ at, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the tenth day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … ten packs of looseleaf, nine new erasers, eight kinds of gel pens, seven pairs of undies, six boys for gawkin’ at, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the eleventh day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … eleven one-inch binders, ten packs of looseleaf, nine new erasers, eight kinds of gel pens, seven pairs of undies, six boys for gawkin’ at, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks and the budget of a small-ish country On the twelfth day of Back to School, my daughters asked of me … twelve cups of coffee, eleven one-inch binders, ten packs of looseleaf, nine new erasers, eight kinds of gel pens, seven pairs of undies, six boys for gawkin’ at, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiive pairs of jeans … four packs of pencils, three styles of notebooks, two new backpacks … and the budget of a small-ish country!